


High Note

by Rumpabumbum



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Band Fic, Cheesy, Lots of song references, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9664970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpabumbum/pseuds/Rumpabumbum
Summary: Sansa Stark has dreamt of being a singer since she was a child. Opportunity arises in the form of her cousin's band and a battle of the bands competition. Meanwhile, Margaery Tyrell is a bondafide rockstar offering the tour of a lifetime to the winner of a small contest. Basically this is a cheesy band fic with lots of references to 2000's alternative rock and pop rock.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [polar-biscuit](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=polar-biscuit).



“We’re looking at a balmy next few days. Highs tomorrow will be around 60 degrees, lows in the 40’s. Who called in the Dornish sun?” the radio broadcaster’s voice crackles.

Arya smacks the dashboard. “You need to fix the stereo Sansa. I can barely hear them.”

Sansa rolls her eyes. She doesn’t have the money for a new stereo. She barely has enough to pay off the car bill this month. She whacks the top of the dashboard with the heel of her hand, smoothing out the crackles a little.

The female broadcaster laughs at the man’s joke. He’s probably never spent a day in in Dorne in his life. Neither has Sansa, but she’s smart enough to know Dorne would never get this cold.

The next song begins to play. Resisting the urge to squeal, Sansa swerves to the next left and turns up the volume.

“Where are you going? The warehouse was the next right,” Arya gripes. After a few notes she realizes what song it is and groans. “Gods Sansa, can’t you get over your woman crush for three minutes? We’re already late.”

“Another 3 minutes won’t kill us then,” Sansa tries to sound irritated. But she’s too consumed by the song to care. Stem-ulate was a musical revelation. Before them, she listened to top-40 hits and bubblegum pop. Margaery’s sweet yet seductive vocals and the punk guitar riffs blew her mind two years ago. From them, she’d learned to appreciate rock and punk. They were the definition of pop punk rock.

“Check Yes Juliet” didn’t crack her top ten among their songs, but Sansa would never pass an opportunity to listen to their music. The lyrics were good and it was a fun song. Her lack of interest in the song had absolutely nothing to do with Loras singing it rather than Margaery. Margaery Tyrell with a voice blessed by the Maiden and a smirk devised by the Stranger. She can’t help but sing a long under her breath as she ignores Arya’s complaints that they should already be there.

The last “you and me” fades out as Sansa and Arya pull into the parking lot. The long way took the perfect amount of time. Both girls get out and hurry to the sidewalk. Wind whips Sansa’s hair into her face. It’s days like these that she wishes her letterman had a hood.

Even from outside Jon’s band is loud enough to put on a respectable concert. If anyone cared to listen to their music. Wolfbane had been trying to get out of their basement phase for a month. They’d played a few parties, even a bar, but had yet to make noise in the local music scene.

They were better off than Sansa though. No one was looking to hire a solo singer. She knows she should find another job. Go to school and make a proper living. Whenever she brought it up, her father would insist she follow her dreams. Corny as it sounded, he wanted her to have the chances he never had. If that meant living at home for a couple extra years while trying to get her music career off the ground, he would gladly keep her around. Catelyn pursed her lips throughout the conversation. Sansa knows her mother wants the best for her. And she knows the reservations her mother has about her in the music industry. Nevertheless, Catelyn had nodded and told Sansa they’d support her no matter what.

Arya opens the metal door and leads them to the makeshift stage. No one notices their arrival. Grenn bangs away on his drums and Pyp bangs his head to his bass while Sam has his eyes closed, lost in the sound of his keyboard. Jon strums his guitar as he stands behind the mic stand, making eyes at Ygritte as he sings his new song “Wildling”.

They join Ygritte, Robb and Ed to form a small audience for the band. They used to sound awful. Grenn had no idea how to keep a beat and Pyp couldn’t play a proper chord if his life depended on it. Now, Sansa had to admit they were pretty good. They played well, had a fun vibe, yet they had a throwback, classic sound.

Except Jon’s voice. The day they started Jon insisted on being the lead singer. Maybe at karaoke night when half the bar was drunk, Jon’s voice could pass as acceptable. His vocal range was poor. He couldn’t sing low notes and sounded like a dying shadowcat when singing high notes.

As Jon finishes “Wildling” everyone hoots and claps.

“That was fantastic, brother,” says Ed.

“Of course it was. Anything written about me is going to sound frickin’ amazing,” Ygritte winks at Jon. He tries to wink back, but winds up blinking instead.

Then Pyp jumps on his back from behind, nearly toppling them off the stage. He hops off and yells, “We’re winning this competition tonight! We could be the headliners souding like that!”

“Calm your tits,” barks Arya. “These other bands are just as good. Musically you sound great. You’ll be in the mix to win. But Jon’s voice won’t help. You’ll have to play flawless with him on the mic.”

Jon sighs and unstraps his guitar. “My voice sounds fine. Doesn’t it baby?” He smiles Ygritte.

“Well…” says Ygritte. Jon’s face drops. Ygritte puts up her hands. “Babe, we’ve been over this. For an untrained, partially tone def man you sound fine. But I agree with Arya. You need a better singer.”

Jon looks to Robb, who nods. He turns around and looks at the rest of the band. They all look down. After a second Sam clears his throat. “You sound lovely. There are just some better options, you know?”

Jon scoffs. “I wish you all had said something before now.”

“We did!” Arya and Ygritte yell in unison.

“Where the hell am I supposed to find a singer who knows our entire set this close to the contest?”

Robb cocks his head toward Sansa. “Give Sans a shot.”

“What?” ask Sansa and Jon.

Arya ponders the proposition. “That can work.” She turns to Sansa. “You know all their songs right?”

“Yeah, but-” Sansa starts.

Arya pushes her to the stage. “Sing.”

“Come on,” groans Jon.

“Shut up and give her shot, cousin,” says Robb.

Jon pouts, but moves to the side of the stage, giving Sansa room in front of the main mic.

Even in front of such a small crowd, Sansa feels her heart race. Her palms sweat and her knees shake. She shuts her eyes. “Which song?”

Jon tunes his guitar. “Your Love”.

He plays the opening guitar riff and the nerves disappear. She opens her eyes and she doesn’t see people, she sees fans. A crowd, jumping and shouting, begging for her to sing.

“Josie’s on a vacation far away…” she sings. Each note brings a new sense of confidence. By the end of the song she’s dragging the mic around stage with her, walking it like a Rockstar.

The little crowd cheers, reminding Sansa that she is not playing The Dragon Pit, but her uncle Benjen’s warehouse where they keep extra cars that don’t sell on the lot. She can’t imagine that the rush of adrenaline is any less thrilling though.

Ed and Ygritte call for an encore while Robb chants her name.

“Why didn’t you tell us she had a voice like that?” asks Grenn.

Jon mopes around the corner of the stage. Sansa’s smile fades. This was Jon’s band. She doesn’t want to steal his this from him. “I don’t know if it’s right for me.”

“Are you nuts? Jon can get over himself. If Wolfsbane wants a shot to win this contest and go on tour, you have to sing Sansa.” Arya says. “Jon get your arse over here and tell Sansa she has to sing.”

Jon sighs, defeated by logic and better singing. “She’s right. You sound better Sansa. But this is still my band. Do you want in?”

Sansa nods her head furiously.

“Then let’s practice the next song. Only 6 hours til show time,” Jon picks up his guitar and orders the rest of the boys around.


	2. Chapter 2

 

            “Come on baby we ain’t gonna live forever. Let me show you all the things that we could do!” Sansa sings along with Margaery’s voice in the car. She’s supposed to be on vocal rest until their first song, but she can’t help joining in when the chorus of “4ever” plays.

            Singing helps distract her from the nerves. She’s never performed in a bar and not in front of a crowd this size. The biggest even Sansa ever sang at was Robin’s bar mitzvah (which wasn’t really a bar mitzvah because no one in her family is Jewish).

            She parks her car in the parking lot, but lets the song play out. At the very least the song has helped her forget how irritated she was that practice ran late. Jon was too much of a perfectionist. She knew each of their songs by heart, yet he insisted on playing them over and over until his hand started cramping. By the time she got home, there wasn’t enough time to change into a stage worthy outfit.

            She zips up her letterman and walks up to the front door. On the way in she spots Grenn’s van. The guys have already brought the equipment inside. The bouncer checks her ID, glances her up and down with a judgmental glare for her attire. After a moment he waves her in.

            The audience is packed. Jon’s friends are here. Tormund is getting drinks from the bar. He carries an armful toward Ygritte. She sees Robb flirting with some girl on the far side of the room.

            “Sansa! There you are!” Arya calls out. She slips through the crowd. “Thought you might have ran into a ditch while checking your reflection.”

            “I am a decent driver, you know,” Sansa rolls her eyes as Arya guides her behind the stage.

            Six other bands congregate backstage in their own little sections. Her jaw drops when she sees Lion Tamer’s lead singer Jaime Lannister laughing with his bass guitarist Brienne Tarth. “Lion Tamer? Are you serious?”

            “This is top level competition Sansa. Did you think I was joking earlier or was your head still up-” Sansa whacks Arya on the back of the head before she can finish her sentence. Arya grins like a child.

             “How long before we go on stage?” Jon asks as he tunes his guitar in the corner.

            “The judges said you’re on fourth,” Arya says.

            “Damn. That’s the worst place to be. Scientifically our brains are wired to remember the first and last of any segment. Being right in the middle puts us at an automatic disadvantage,” Sam says.

            “Find a way to stand out then,” Arya retorts. “Break a leg. Literally Pyp.” Pyp, who wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, jerks his head up at the sound of his name. “They’ll remember a one-legged bassist.”

            Pyp furrows his eyebrows as Arya leaves the backstage area. He shakes his head and goes back to phantom strumming the notes on his bass.

            When the host announces the first band, the crowd roars. The reactions Sansa could never fathom becoming a reality before this night.

* * *

 

            Margaery shimmies to squeeze past the obnoxious red-bearded man and the muscular Braavosi man on her to the bar from the woman’s restroom.

            The bartender perks up when he sees her walking his way. “What pretty drink can I get for the pretty lady?”

            Margaery smiles flirtatiously. “I’d be so grateful if you could get me a Long Island Iced Tea and a Mai Tai. And a shot of brandy.”

            “Sure thing cupcake,” the man winks and grabs a glass to begin pouring.

            Margaery rolls her eyes. Three years touring has taught her that men like him exist everywhere. While she could raise hell and lead a campaign against the blatant sexism, she’s found that little acts are just as effective without threatening to alienate any of her fanbase.

            The bartender returns with all three drinks in hand. He sets them on the bar. “Need a strong hand to help you carry these?”

            “Thanks love, but I think I can manage,” she tosses back the brandy and downs it in one gulp. The bartender stares at her, surprised. She smiles at him and takes the other glasses on her way. As she shoves through the crowd, she hears whispers.

            “Look at that hair,” “Margaery Tyrell pulls it off better” “I’d fuck her all the same” “Is that Margaery Tyrell?” “Come on over here baby. I’ve got something for you to drink down if you’re that thirsty.”

            By the time she makes it across the bar to the table, they’ve announced the contest will begin in five minutes. Eager to see which act will come out first, a mob rushes to the bases of the stage. She sets the drinks on the table and sits next to Loras. “Ten bucks.”

            “Next time we’re demanding that Stannis writes free drinks into our contract. Ten dollars for two bloody drinks,” Loras shakes his head and pulls out his wallet.

            She looks over her shoulder. A short girl who looks like she’s underage walks out from backstage. “Next time?” Margaery adjusts the neckline of her leather jacket.

            “You know what he means,” Renly says. He sips his mai tai. “Stannis said there are some good artists in Winterfell.”

            “We don’t want good artists. We want good music. You can hardly call the outdated snoozefest he listens to music.” Loras scoots closer to Renly.

            “I’m sure he has similar sentiments about us,” Margaery counters. Actually, she knows he does. He was ranting about it this morning after the boys slept late, forcing her to prepare this promotion on her own with their band manager.

            The host returns to the stage and announces the first band. The group calls themselves Unsullied. Their music is hard core and metallic. The look on Stannis’s face if they won….

            She surpresses a giggle. She knows Loras would want them just to annoy him. They’re not right though. She hears some wrong notes from the guitarist and the singer is too pitchy.

            Next is an impressive rap duo. Their stage presence is dynamic. Rhymes flow easily but still sound improvised.

            The next act is forgettable. A generic country artist singing a song that has been sung a thousand times. The song shows no range, the singer shows no passion.

            Then comes a band called Wolfsbane. Aside from a loud whistle a few stray cheers, the band doesn’t have much of a following in here. Shame.

            Of all the performers so far, this band is the most attractive. The guitarist has gelled curls and a scruffly beard. Girls would swoon over him at concerts. Margaery’s eyes, however, focus on the singer. She’s pretty. Beautiful red hair. Nervous deep blue eyes. A shy frown on her lips.

            The girl surveys the crowd as the guitarist reintroduces the band. Margaery takes Loras’s drink and sips. “Hey!” he whispers.

            “Sshh!” she hushes him as the band yells “Shot through the heart and you’re to blame darling you give love a bad name!”

            The guitar riffs and a transformation occurs on stage. This shy girl suddenly looks like she belongs on stage as she sings “Chains of love got a hold on me. When passion’s a prison you can’t break free.”

            She struts the stage like she owns it. The crowd eats it up. During a guitar riff, she whips her hair and smirks at the crowd. She’s fully aware of the effect she has on them.

            Margaery gets up and joins the crowd, standing on the far side to get a better look at the band. The drummer smashes away which is fitting for this song. The bassist and keyboardist are stiff and lack presence, but the singer and guitarist make up for it.

            “I play my part and you play your games. You give love a bad name,” the girl sings. The guitarist starts a solo. Instead of standing in center stage hogging the attention, she moves out of the way to let the guitarist take center stage. A sign of an unselfish singer. In her time in the industry, Margaery has found that performers like that are rare and valuable.

            Margaery moves closer as the girl reclaims center stage. She’s at the end of the second row as the girl starts again. “Shot through the heart...”

            The girl smiles as she scans across the crowd, spreading her attention to both sides like any good performer should. Margaery smiles at her when their eyes lock. Suddenly the girl falters. She stops singing for a second, missing the end of the chorus. Realizing the band is still playing she scrambles to continue singing. She speeds through the words too fast to catch up and is off beat by the end.

            The bassist gives her a confused look as the outro plays. The crowd cheers louder than they had for any other performer so far, but that doesn’t appear to matter to the girl. She darts off stage, hands folded over the sleeve of her jacket.

            Margaery stares for a second. She’s not sure what just happened. Even with the rough ending though, there’s too much potential in this band to let it slip past her.

* * *

 

            Gods. Gods, gods, gods. Sansa paces back and forth backstage. She pulls at the loose thread on her letterman sleeve.

            What in seven hells is Margaery Tyrell doing here? Tonight? Everything had been going perfectly. Moving on to the next round was assured. The crowd loved it. The last face she expected to see among the audience was her celebrity crush.

            Then she stumbled. Her mind went blank. The only lyrics going through her head were “Holy crap”.

            Margaery had been smiling at her. And listening. Was that a real smile or a “I pity this girl smile”?

            As she paces back toward the door, Arya stomps in. Sansa turned around, only to find Jon approaching from the other direction.

            “What happened out there?!” they ask with varying degrees of concern and anger in their voices.

            “I messed up okay!” Sansa yells louder than she intended to. She looks at Jon. “Who is this tour with? If we win?”

            “Stem-ulated,” he responds indifferently.

            Sansa clutches her head between her hands and mumbled to herself. The other band members join them, concern written on their faces.

            “Is that bad?” Jon asks.

            “This was why I didn’t tell her,” Arya grumbles.

            Sansa’s head shot up. “Maybe if you had told me, I would have been prepared! She looked right at me. She probably thinks I’m a dweeb.” She whined.

            “What’s happening?” whispers Grenn.

            “I think she saw a hot chick and freaked out,” Pyp whispers back.

            “Ah. Why would she freak out?”

            Sam gently grasps their shoulders. “Guys how about you help me move the guitar cases.” He leads them away.

            “Really?! Damn I thought I had a shot with her!” Grenn exclaims from afar.

            Sansa turns her attention back to Arya. “You should have told me!”

            Arya shrugs. “You would have been a nervous wreck.”

            “At least I wouldn’t have humiliated myself in front of her. Damn it, I blew it.” Sansa crosses her arms over her chest.

            Jon wraps an arm around her shoulders. “You didn’t blow it. The audience loved it and you sounded great out there. I think we’ll make it. You just have to focus on the next song. Don’t worry about the tour or the judges.”

            “They’re the judges too?” Jon nods. She feels queasy. “Why am I being punished? Was it because I ate mum’s last lemon cupcake?”

            “That was you! She chewed me out for that last night.” Arya frowns.

            “I’m sure you deserved it for something else anyway.”

           

            After the last band performs, the bands come out for a curtain call.

            “Who’s had a great time tonight?” the host asks the audience.

            A collective roar rises into the rafters. Sansa spots Robb and Ygritte raising their glasses and hollering with the rest of them. Tormund claps his paw-like hands so hard they resound above the voices. She does not see Margaery again. For that, Sansa thanks the old gods and the new.

            “I know you guys just want me to shut up and get back to this kick ass music we’ve go tonight. But first, you guys want to know who our final three will be, don’t you?” the host teases.

            The crowd roars again.

            “Then here we go. Playing one more song for the chance of a lifetime will be… Blood of My Blood, Wolfsbane, and Lion Tamer!”

            Sansa looks down to the other end of the stage. Jaime Lannister raises his fist in the air as if he had already won the contest. His bandmate, Brienne, scowls at him and says something. Jamie grins cheekily and blows her a kiss. What a strange dynamic.

            “Give our lovely finalists a break alright,” the host announces the fans. “We’ll have their pretty faces back in ten minutes. Until then, half off their tab to anyone who can name all our finalist singers.”

            The crowd scrambled toward the bar, save for a few more intelligent and likely sober bystanders. The four bands that failed to make the cut wander the stage. Some look around downcast, others seeth at each other.

            Jon rounds the band backstage.

            “I’m off to get a drink,” Pyp announces.

            “In that mad rush?” Sam squints his eyebrows together.

            “Ay, get me a scotch while your out there,” Grenn calls over.

            Pyp has already gone though. Grenn groans and mutters to himself as he rounds the corner to leave the stage.

            “I want to do the new one,” Jon says. He picks up his guitar and adjusts some knobs. “It can knock them dead.”

            Sansa nods, then remembers what the new song is. She gulps. “You sure? We know I can kill it on ‘Your Love’ like we talked about.”

            “We have to shock them, Sans. A band like that isn’t going to be impressed with an average song. The new one has edge, and range. Think of the vocal flexibility.”

            “You can hit notes Jon never could,” Sam pipes in. “We never would have stood a chance with him.”

            Jon scowls at Sam, who tries to shrug innocently. “You’re lucky I have to pee.”

            Sansa watches Jon march off. She checks out the other bands, and drops her jaw to see Renly Baratheon smiling and chatting up Brienne. In the darker corner of the room, Loras does the same with the rap duo. Seeing them in person has her flustered enough. But if Loras and Renly are hitting up the other bands then…

            “Well aren’t you something,” sings an angelic voice behind her back. Sansa whirls around. In her a leather jacket, crop top and shorts, Margaery is a vision. She forces herself not to stare at the belly button ring Margaery is showing off. It had inspired her to get her own before a bad infection ended that teenage rebellion.

            “Wha?” is all she can manage to spit out.

            Margaery flashes her teasing smile. “It’s not every day you hear a voice like that. Melodic with great range. Good control. I dare say you might be the best singer here. Excuse me, second best.”

            Her idol comes closer. She playfully brushes Sansa’s shoulder and laughs.

            “Th-thanks,” Sansa stutters. “You’re pretty too. I mean your voice! Your voice is pretty!”

            Margaery’s laughter rings through her ears. “I know what you meant. I love that 90’s look. Between you and your guitarist, it’s very retro. Matches your sound.”

            Is she flirting? Oh gods what if she’s flirting? What if she’s not? Sansa wishes she could hide the blush growing on her cheeks.

            Margaery glances back to the stage, then smirks back at Sansa. “They’ll be starting again soon,” she takes Sansa’s hand in her own. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” she whispers conspiratorially. As she walks away, Margaery crosses her fingers behind her back.

 

 

* * *

 

            The rap duo barely registers her attention. Their floundering merely serves as background noise to her thoughts. There was something…intriguing about the red head. Star struck to be sure, but sweet. And the way she lit up on stage…

            “Well they’re done for,” Loras kicks his legs up onto the table. Margaery rolls her eyes and shoves his feet down. “What are you upset for? It’s less competition for that band that your swooning over.”

            “I don’t want your gross shoes near my drink. Crone knows when the last time this floor was scrubbed,” Margaery sneers.

            Renly snickers. “Here they are now. Let’s hope the poor girl doesn’t forget the words again.”

            Loras laughs along with him. Margaery ignores the comment and focuses her attention on the band. The curly haired guitarist whispers something to the bassist, who relays the message to the drummer.

            The singer—why hadn’t she asked her name?—steps toward the mic. The guitar strums the opening riffs. A more acoustic sound this time.

            “Lay where you’re layin’/Don’t make a sound/ I know they’re watching/ they’re watching/” she sings. Her eyes close as she sings. Chills run down Margaery’s spine as she realizes what the song is about.

            Again it’s her voice. That captivating, beautiful voice. Vulnerable. The girl’s eyes flash open and look in her table’s direction. “You, Your sex is on fire/ Consumed with what’s to transpire”

            There’s one moment when her pitch falters. Even the best singers have their moments. The crowd is captivated, the guitars and keyboard sound good and aside from one note, the singer was brilliant.

            At the end, whistles and catcalls jump out over the cheers of the crowd.

            They quiet for just a moment before Jaime Lannister of Lion Tamer runs onto the stage and flips his hair. His bassist rolls her eyes as dozens of girls in the audience scream.

            Loras leans forward, watching the band intently. Coming into the night Lion Tamer had been his favorite to join them on tour. The band already had a solid following and their musical style was similar to Stem-ulate’s.

            Jaime introduces himself and the band, flashes his smile and counts off.

            “Couples on their back in the park/lay on blankets bought/ on a date the day before/a routine I’ve been longing for.”

            They sound great, just as the last song had sounded. Loras bobs his head. She glances to Stannis in the far corner of the bar. He’s not even listening. He has his, “why the hell am I here” scowl.

            The surprise comes when the bassist sings the next verse “When I go out alone/ And see them sharing meals/like Lady and the Tramp/Hate their loving eyes/ and wish that it was you and I”

            Her voice isn’t refined, but there’s raw power in it. And passion. Passion that can’t be taught. The way her she looks at the lead singer tells the story.

            She pities the poor girl. Jaime’s reputation as a playboy isn’t a secret. It’s another reason Loras and Stannis had them on the band’s radar for the tour. Falling for someone like that can’t be any easier for her than it had been for Margaery.

            The bridge toward the end is less than stellar. Their voices clash the bass and the drums quit syncing their beats. Of course the crowd doesn’t notice or they don’t care. By the end their screaming for an encore. Jaime flashes those sparkling teeth one last time, winks in the direction of Margaery and her boys and tosses his jacket into the crowd like a true Rockstar would.

            The bassist leaves the stage without a second glance to the crowd. Wrapping her head around that dynamic could take years.

            Margaery turns back to the boys. “What do you think?”

            Renly rubs his chin. “They were all impressive.”

            “Lion Tamer,” Loras says.

            “I liked the second band, Wolfsbane.”

            Loras cocks his head. “You like the singer.”

            “I like the band. The keyboardist and guitarist are fantastic. They have a throwback style and yes, the singer has a nice voice.”

            Loras turns to Renly. “You can’t tell me that you’d take them over Lion Tamer.”

            Renly shrugs. “Take away Lion Tamer’s fan following, and it’s closer than you think.”

            “Jaime is charismatic. That can’t be taught. Their sound meshes well with ours. We probably have similar followings.”

            “Don’t you want to expand our fan base? A band like Wolfsbane can attract a new audience Loras. Which means more sales. Which means more gel for your stupid hair.”

            Renly laughs at Loras’s pouting face. “She makes a good point about the audience. Lion Tamer is already on the verge of getting their own tour. They could upstage us.”

            “Someone is talking sense. Do we agree that the rap group is out?” Margaery brushes her hair to the side. Renly nods.

            “Although, Lion Tamer would bring us press coverage. You saw that chemistry he had with Brienne right? The press loves a good band romance.”

            Loras smiles smugly at Margaery.

            “I still say Wolfsbane, Loras has been brainwashed by Jaime’s good looks so there’s no changing his mind. You decide Renly.” She crosses her fingers, just as she promised the singer of Wolfsbane. Hopefully she didn’t pick the wrong Baratheon to decide.

 

* * *

 

            Sansa can’t stand still. She rocks back and forth from her heels to her toes. Stem-ulate stands less than twenty feet away from her. The gasps that echoed through the crowd when Margaery and her bandmates took the stage replicated Sansa’s own astonishment when she first saw Margaery.

She wasn’t sure how no one had noticed before. Even drunk she would have had a hard time not recognizing Margaery for who she was.

Renly smiles at the band and waves. Pyp waves back before Grenn smacks his hand down. “Act like a professional moron.”

Pyp pushes his shoulder. A shoving match ensues. Jon gets between the guys and glares at them both. They stop immediately, back to their best behavior.

“I think we have a real chance,” Sam whispers. He looks almost as nervous as Sansa feels.

“I think so too,” she agrees.

Finally Margaery picks up the mic. “Hello Winterfell, how’re you guys feeling?”

 That crowd responds as it has all night. “I heard Northerners were rowdy and gruff, but my Grandmother has sneezed more intensely than that. How about our lovely performers. Can you all get it up for them?”

The crowd screamed like they were at a stadium concert venue. Margaery smirks and gives the mic to Loras. “As wonderful as all of our contestants were only one group can join us on tour.” He gives the mic to Renly. “With that said, we would like to officially welcome to the Garden Club…Wolfsbane!”

She doesn’t hear the crowd’s reaction. She doesn’t see Arya hi-five Ygritte or Robb pump his fist. She doesn’t see Margaery’s smile or Renly clapping his hands. Her band engulfs her in a group hug before Jon lifts her off the ground. Towering over the boys as they carry her off stage, the spotlight blinds her. But just for a moment.


	3. Chapter 3

“Sansa. Sansa calm down, you’re leaving in three days, not three minutes,” Catelyn laughs.

Sansa shoves the pile of clothes into the already overstuffed suit case. “I don’t want to forget anything mum!”

“I’m sure if you forget something you can buy a spare on the road. Relax. Why don’t you come downstairs and spend time with your father and brothers? You won’t see them for months possibly. I’ll help you pack more later.” Catelyn zips the bag up for her.

Sansa nods and follows her mother downstairs. Robb has his headphones plugged into his laptop, bobbing his head, probably to one of the songs Jon recorded a few months ago. Rickon and Bran sit on the floor playing X-box, while her father flips through a football magazine.

“Where’s Arya?”

Catelyn sighs. “She said she needed to finalize negotiations with the manager of the band you’re touring with. I think she just wanted to avoid spending time with me.”

“Aw, don’t say that mum. You know she doesn’t think like that.” Half the problem though was that Arya doesn’t think of the consequences of her actions, no matter how well intentioned they are. Lately even Sansa would admit that it feels like her mum was getting shafted by these decisions.

A flurry of machine gun shots roar through the room. Catelyn flinches. “How many times have I told them the stereo is not for video games? Ned, make your sons listen.”

Ned doesn’t even glance away from his magazine. “Boys, do what your mum said.”

Catelyn huffs. As she walks in front Ned, he catches her wrist, giving her pause. He kisses her hand. “They’re just boys being boys.”

“I remember you taking an entirely different stance with Robb,” Catelyn folds her arms over her chest.

Ned gives her his infamous puppy dog eyes.

Sansa loves watching her parents during the imperceptible moments like this. If chivalry is dead, her parents’ relationship is a zombie. It gives her hope that perhaps all the love songs aren’t lies and that, somewhere, sometime, love could be like that.

“Rickon, let me see the controller,” Sansa tells her youngest brother.

Rickon gripes as he handed over the controller. “Don’t make me die, Sansa. Bran’s already making fun of me for it.”

“No worries, Rickon. Now, you shoot with the B button right?” She presses the button and a missile fires. Bran’s side of the screen flashes and goes dark. Red words “LOSER” flash on the screen.

“Yes, Sansa, that is the missile launcher,” Bran breathes out.

Sansa smiles crookedly. By the time they put up the game, she’s actually gotten quite good. Okay, she can’t aim worth crap, but she’s good at ducking behind things.

The doorbell rings. Everyone looks around until Ned finally relents and gets up. He opens the door. “Jon? If we’d known you were stopping in, we’d have ordered pizza for tonight. You have to call ahead, boy.”

Jon gives Ned one of those bro hugs that still make no sense. “Don’t worry Uncle Ned, I won’t be here long. I just wanted to ask Sansa if she wanted to come in town with me to pick up Arya. Stem-ulated is doing a band practice right now while Stannis and Arya are still negotiating.”

Sansa overhears every word. Her breath catches and she nearly chokes.

“Hey! That’s valuable equipment!” Bran shouts after Sansa throws down the controller and dashes to her room to grab her coat and scarf.

Back in the kitchen, Jon chats with Catelyn and Ned about the plan for the tour and its potential stopping points. “We’ll break in King’s Landing for about a week. The other band is having a video shoot and a photo shoot for a magazine. If we’re lucky we might be able to book an interview with someone while we’re there.”

Catelyn’s face pales. She taps her fingers against the chair’s seat. “That’s such a long time. I didn’t realize it would be so long.”

Ned puts an arm around Catelyn. “Three months will fly by. And there is that show they’ll do in Winterfell in a month.”

Sansa stumbles into the kitchen, struggling to yank on a boot. “Almost…go it… Okay! I’m good to go.”

“Wait, young lady!” Ned rumbles. He gets up and hugs her. “Your mum decided that since both her daughters are abandoning her, we’re having pizza without you.”

“Muuummmmm!” Sansa whines. She lets Catelyn embrace her, but pretends to be dejected.

“Now you know how I feel.” Catelyn laughs.

“Can you save me a few slices at least?”

“That’s up to your brothers. And of course who wins the death fight between you and Arya when you get back,” Jon opens the door for Sansa.

“Bye guys! Love you! See you later!” Sansa calls, though she’s already out the door and can’t hear their response.

She beats Jon to the car, but is forced to wait for him to unlock the door. He takes his sweet time, unlocking his door, then buckling in, then unlocking Sansa’s.

His dastardly plan ends with him plugging his phone into the auxillury cord. “We’re listening to my music.”

Sansa pouts and slumps in the seat. She was only going to reintroduce him to all of their fellow tour mate’s wonderful songs.

Jon blasts “Almost Easy” from Seven Hells, Seven Hounds. She makes it through one verse before she turns down the volume to a six.

“Don’t make me turn this car around,” he twists the nob back up.

“Please, something that sounds musical at least,” she begs.

Jon huffs and begrudgingly skips a few songs to a much more bearable “Love at First Sight” from Sam’s old band.

‘Could this be love at first sight/Or should I walk by again’

“Awww!!! This one’s cute!” Sansa claps her hands together.

Jon flushes red. His shoulders hunch together like they do when he’s embarrassed. “Shut up. I only have it cause Ygritte made me get it.”

“Was it the song playing for your first kiss?” Sansa leaned forward and tilted her head to better read his face. The blush deepened and his lips pouted out. “Oh my gosh it is! You’re like a lovesick puppy! This is great!”

She spends the rest of the ride musing about Jon and Ygritte’s “romance”. It all buries beneath Jon’s skin, which Sansa would be lying to say she didn’t enjoy—especially as much as he helped Arya get under hers.

The studio they pull into is nicer than Pyp’s warehouse by miles. Yet, it’s also not too flashy. She expected something more grandiose from the trio. Then again, they weren’t in Winterfell often and were likely just borrowing it for the day.

She hadn’t thought about what she would say to them! Sansa freezes with her hand on the door handle. She should thank them! But wasn’t it a bit late for that? Acting cool was probably the best option. If she knew how to act cool. It would help to actually leave the car for that to happen.

She pulls the handle. The door doesn’t budge. She pulls again and again. She glares at Jon, who waves cheekily from the sidewalk. Sansa pops the lock, finally getting out of the car. She slams the door behind her and marches in after Jon.

She loses track of him after he rounds a corner. Stuck with a decision to go left, right, or straight, she chooses right. There’s only one door, which she opens. She realizes it’s a sound booth and there’s someone playing a familiar song on the other side. Then comes Margaery’s voice:

“Hearts are breaking and wars are raging on/ and I have taken my glasses off/ You got me nervous/ I’m right at the end of rope/  A half empty girl/ Don’t make me laugh, I’ll choke”

Her feet walk into the booth of their own accord. Margaery dances around the recording space carefree while Renly bangs on the drums. Loras is fiddling with a keyboard. Sansa realizes the bass must be pre recorded.

“I wish we were all rose-colored too, my rose-colored boy” Margaery sings. She ruffles Loras’s hair playfully and dodges a swat. Margaery giggles as she prances around. She catches Sansa’s eye and grins. “This is a closed practice, sweetling. You shouldn’t be here.”

Loras stops hitting keys, which gets Renly to stop as well.

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t realize. It’s just…you guys sounded great and this new vibe is super cool and…is it a new song?”

Margaery nods and goes into the sound booth. She hits the button to mute the bassline. “What brings you here, Sansa? Just that eager to begin touring?”

“Actually Jon and I came to get my sister. Is she still doing negotiations with Stannis?”

“I hope not. If he hasn’t called Shireen yet, Selyse is going to throw a fit,” Renly packs away his drum sticks. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks. You wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?” Sansa asks.

“Come with me,” Margaery guides her out. Sansa takes not of her stylish accessories. Her sweater and pants aren’t nearly as provocative as her typical stage gear, but the boots are adorable. They go well with her legs.

“Checking them out?” Margaery tosses her head back.

“Wh-what?” Sansa stutters, feeling as though she’d been caught stealing a cookie from a girl scout.

“The boots. Cute right?”

Sansa nods emphatically.

“I found them at this cute boutique in Winter’s Town,” Margaery stops in front of a door. “Here we are.”

She cracks the door open.

“I will not! Our deal was final!” Stannis yells.

Sansa slinks into the room. Jon has camouflaged himself against the backwall. Stannis and Arya hold a staredown over the table.

“Take it or we walk,” Arya threatens.

Jon groans. “We accept the bloody terms, just let me sign the damn contract.”

“Shut up, Jon. I know I can score at least one more memory foam pillow out of this deal,” Arya stands firm.

“I’ve given you enough. We can get another opening act.” Stannis gets up to walks away from the negotiations. Margaery blocks him and sits him back down.

“Surely one more pillow won’t hurt Stannis,” Margaery assures him.

            Stannis stares at her. “This child makes the most ridiculous demands. Extra blue m&m’s, discounted band merchandise and 50 memory foam pillows! 50!!” Stannis groans.

            “The one more will be fine,” Margaery pats his shoulder.

            Sansa watches the smugness spread across Arya’s lips while she prepares to make another demand. To end the madness she snatches the contract and scribbles her names and the band’s name at the bottom to finish negotiations.

            Arya frowns. “I wasn’t done with that!”

            Sansa sets the papers down. “Yes you were! Come on, before all the pizza at home is gone!”

            Arya grumbles under her breath, but willingly leaves the room. Jon follows after. Margaery catches Sansa’s shoulder before she joins them.

            “You really liked the new song?” Margaery asks.

            Sansa nods. “It was fantastic. I love the 80’s throwback.”

            “We have to match that 90’s sound somehow,” Margaery teases. She brushes something off Sansa’s shoulder. “Have a nice evening Sansa. See you bright and early Thursday.”

            The unexpected meeting with Stem-ulate has Sansa giddy all the way home. She doesn’t pay attention to Jon and Arya’s discussion about the contracts that they all need to sign. She doesn’t care that Arya called the passenger seat and pushed her chair as far back as it could go so Sansa would have no room to stretch her legs. She doesn’t even care that there’s no pizza left when they get home. Because it’s finally sinking in that she is going on tour with Margaery Tyrell and the greatest band she’s ever known.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song list:
> 
> Almost Easy- Avenged Sevenfold  
> Love At First Sight- The Brobecks  
> Rose-Colored Boy- Paramore


End file.
